Page 29 of Her Pretty Words

“Wow.” I blow out a breath, mostly to suppress my grin. Not at her expense, but because the asshole didn’t deserve her and I’m proud that she left him. I know it wasn’t an easy situation to walk away from, seeing that they were engaged and living together. “Are you okay?”

She lifts a wet shoulder above the surface and then drops it, the water rippling in circles where it disappeared. “I had my whole life planned out.”

“Did you like it? The plan, I mean.”

“No,” she whispers, then looks away. Her face is glowing gold from the rising sun. I’ve never truly cared for honey, but seeing the color of her eyes in the light makes me crave some.

“I don’t know why I told you all of that.” She looks at me with the slightest frown.

“You can tell me anything.” A wave rolls in. I steady myself and accidentally brush her hand beneath the water.

She all but throws herself at me, catching me by surprise. I suck in a quick breath when she wraps her arms around my neck.

I-I can’t remember the last time I was hugged. My eyes feel heavy with emotions I don’t attempt to place. After too many seconds of not returning the embrace, I slowly twist my arms around her. We hold on to one another in the span of nine waves rolling past us.

She reels back with wide eyes, as though she suddenly realized it’s me who she was hugging. “I’m sorry.”

I don’t know what to say, so I don’t say anything at all. I only watch her step out of the water, and her golden, sun-kissed skin makes it seem like she commands the sun. Like it shines just for her.

Chapter 11

Macy

Igasp for air. Dreams of my grandparents chase me awake. The familiar ones where we spend the day together, and every detail is so vivid that I never once question the reality of it, until moments before I wake up, and I realize how out of place they truly are. How they don’t belong in this world anymore.

The image of my grandmother’s smile is still so clear in my mind’s eye. My grandfather reading me a bedtime story echoes as if he’s only just left the room. Sobs are breaking through the silence of the night. It feels as though there is no air left to feed my lungs. The wall caging my heart has been blown to bits, leaving the organ exposed to the world.

I think of the deep blue sea. How some days, the water is so still it becomes glass, and others it rages with whitecaps so powerful, the salty water could easily replace the air of the strongest lungs. It deceives as a calm sea until a storm strikes, so similar to grief.

I slip out of bed, cold terrazzo beneath my bare feet. My chest is heavy, and tears stream endlessly down my face as I walk throughout a home that belonged to the people I mourn. I run my fingertips over the familiar texture of the hand-knit blanketmy grandma made that rests over the back of the couch. She’d drape it over me when I’d fall asleep watching movies together.

A loud sob breaks free, and I barrel over in pain. My head is pounding, and I can’t see anything past my tears. The walls seem to cave in on me.

I manage to open the back door with my unsteady hands. A breeze blows against my face, cooling the wet skin beneath my eyes. I grab onto the wind chime before it’s sound touches my ears. I unhang it and set it down, so I don’t hear the reminder of what once was. What will never be again.

I curl into fetal position on the porch swing, letting it gently rock me back and forth. I try to forget the pain, block out the truth just for a little while. I close my eyes and make up scenarios in my head like I did when I was a kid.

I used to imagine people and places and conflicts to keep me entertained during the long flights every summer. Sometimes I would continue the scenarios in my head before bed as if it were a TV series.

When I open my eyes again, I see that damn pelican. We stare at each other, and right when it cocks its head, a star draws a line across the sky in my peripheral.

I gasp, my eyes focusing on the spot the flash disappeared. Something magical fills the air. My eyes slowly drag back to the bird. “Hello,” I whisper.

It’s flapping it’s wings as if answering me. My chest squeezes and I almost believe the bird to be a sign from my grandparents. I sigh after a few moments, realizing how ridiculous it sounds, but before the thought can fully form, I look to the left and a bright flash of light blinks into the darkness. My hand flies to my mouth and awestruck laughter falls from my lips. I smile and lift my face toward the sky.

The pelican flies toward the ocean, its silhouette is proud above the horizon, diving into the water and coming up with a tail flopping from its mouth. I laugh.

The ocean has its rough days, but it always returns to its peaceful state. Maybe I need to learn to surf the waves long enough to stay above water.

I finally have a fridge stocked with real food. The gas station snacks weren’t going to cut it anymore. Once I unload my last bag of groceries, I give myself a nod of approval.

The handheld dustpan just wasn’t going to work, so I bought some modern-day cleaning supplies. I play music on my phone and get to work, throwing my hair into a bun at the nape of my neck. My entire playlist runs until I’m done wiping every surface. There’s not a speck of dust in sight.

I pick up my phone and find Sarah in my contacts. She answers on the first ring and is cheery when I invite her and Elliot over for dinner tonight. When we hang up, a bead of sweat drips down my temple.

I desperately need a shower, but the ocean is right outside, sparkling under the sun. I change into a bikini and grab a sheet from the closet. I bring my laptop with me so I can write.

My skin warms beneath the bright star in the sky, and I kick sand behind me with every step I make. Once I’ve found the perfect spot near the water, far enough so a wave can’t wet my sheet, I spread it over the sand, using my flip flops to hold the corners.

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